


Prompt: Bleedthrough

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [138]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Codependency, F/M, M/M, Mental Bleedthrough, Mental Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: The Great Birthday Prompt: established quickbird. Wanda recruits Sam to plan a great birthday for pietro, since he is usually the one doing something for her in previous years. Sam is eager to help but slightly frightened by her partyplanning intensity. The whole team gets roped intothe celebration. After, Bucky helps her clean up and they have counter sex because it IS her birthday too and also Sam and Pietro disappeared awhile ago and she's getting some... twin telepathy mood bleed through...





	Prompt: Bleedthrough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nanyoky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanyoky/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Nell!

**i.** **  
** The twins birthday had ever been a shared thing - how could it not? It was a day for the both of them, together. Here, though, now, Wanda wanted to do something a bit different. In the past it may have been a day for them, together, but while she had always remembered it, it was always Pietro who had always  _ done _ something first - woken her with chocolate and a new scarf, jewellery he’d bartered for, a new dress he’d stolen.

But their last birthday had been barely that, Pietro still recovering in the Cradle. No smiling wake-up, no thoughtful gifts, No afternoon spent sharing memories, watching Pietro’s face light up like a sunrise when she finally revealed  _ his  _ present.

Here, now, Wanda wanted to make this birthday one to remember.

 

* * *

 

**ii.** **  
** The base is a sparse thing. Stark may have told them all to “make it home”, but most of them had only done that to their own rooms, and even then only so much. The  _ kitchen  _ was kept spotless when not in use - and the only thing that showed any real use was the coffee machine, due to everyone having one or fifty late nights due to nightmares. 

The base is a sparse thing, lacking in personalisation, decoration, everything simple and modern and sterile. Wanda, sitting down with her notepad and planning, decides that after this she’s going to paint the walls of her room a nice crimson red.

 

* * *

 

**iii.**   
“Sam.”

She’s stood in the corner of the hall, half in shadow, and she thinks he jumps half a foot. 

“Jesus Christ, Wanda, you scared the life out of me.”

She smiles, almost a grin. “Sorry. Did you know it’s Pietro’s birthday in a week?”

The mingled look of surprise and worry on Sam’s face is almost funny.

 

* * *

 

**iv.**   
“I haven’t got him  _ anything!” _ Sam exclaims, pacing. “He didn’t say a word!”

“He wouldn’t,” Wanda says. “Our birthday was always just for us, for years.”

Sam looks up at her, his face going from worry to pity. Wanda waves a hand.

“I will help you pick out a present for my brother, if you help me set up a party.” She looks at Sam, does her best “innocent orphan” look and says, “We never had a proper one as children.”

 

* * *

 

**v.**   
“You’re uh… really into the party thing,” Sam says, when he first arrives in the main room on the day. 

“We never got a proper party as children,” Wanda says, and throws him a pack of multi-colour plastic tablecloths. “Do you want to make Pietro’s birthday special or not?”

She thinks, for a moment, Sam’s going to say “it’s your birthday too” and she’s going to have to explain how every time it was Pietro who made the day special, but he doesn’t. Just tears open the pack, and starts. 

“Hey,” he asks after a minute or two. “What about music?”

 

* * *

 

**vi.**   
By the time Pietro gets in (alongside Bucky who she’d asked to distract him long enough for them to set this up) the main room is ready - there’s shiny plastic banners saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY pinned to the ceiling, there’s party food based on recipes Laura taught her, and Sam has been entrusted with the music. Wanda’s even got her present for Pietro stowed away in her room, ready.

“What,” says Pietro, stood in the doorway. 

“Party!” Wanda says. “Happy Birthday, Pietro.”

Pietro looks stunned, surprised, momentarily thrown off-kilter. 

“Go and have a shower,” Sam suggests. “And when you get back we’ll give you your presents and I’ll tell you how terrifying your sister is when intensely focussed on  _ party planning.” _

 

* * *

 

**vii.**   
Within ten minutes, the party is going. Steve found the others and brought them up, Pietro showered in record time, drying his hair with his sprint back to the main room. Wanda barely had time to fetch his present before he skids to a stop in front of her. His mind is warm and surprised, the winds around his thoughts fast and startled, but smooth enough she can see straight through.

She passes him his present.

“You didn’t have to,” he says. “I always-”

“I wanted to, for once,” Wanda says.

He’s surprised, and happy, and he hugs her tight. 

“All right,” he says. “So where are the other presents, then?”

 

* * *

 

**viii.**   
There’s party games, of course, and Pietro sits down and opens every present one by one, saving Wanda’s for last - two books on physics with annotations from some of Stark’s scientists as to where Pietro seems to be breaking the rules, a selection of postcards from museums she thought he would enjoy and-

“A bootlace?” Pietro says.

“A bracelet,” Wanda corrects and leans over, showing him how to move the knots so it can slip over his hand. “I made it myself.”

Pietro grins, “So that’s why it looks like a mess.”

“ _ And _ I added one my charms to it,” Wanda says, pinging the small disc of dangling silver with a painted nail. The silver is bright against the dark blue which, in turn, is stark against her brother’s skin. “Like how Mama used to make.”

Pietro goes still at that, his fingers taking the charm by the edges, tracing its shape.

“Thank you,” he says, eyes wet. 

Sam’s present is next (two fantasy books, a new raincoat and shoe deodorant. Wanda didn’t even know the last was a thing until she suggested Sam find something for the smell of Pietro’s shoes) and then Clint and Natasha, Steve and Tony, Bucky, Vision, Scott. Even Peter is there, the babyvenger, small and gangly in way that almost reminds Wanda of Pietro when he’d been Peter’s age, handing over a parcel with-

“A radio set?”

Peter shrugs. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got you something I thought might be fun. A project.”

Neither twin has known what to make of Peter since first encountering him but he has always seemed to mean well, no matter what.

“Thank you,” Pietro says. “Now what- how do parties go usually?”

 

* * *

 

**ix.**   
As everyone breaks off into their own groups, Pietro slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a box. In it are some earrings - gold and garnet, just as Mama had loved, just like the pair she’d promised to give to Wanda one day.

“How-”

“I found a jeweller,” Pietro says. “And I asked.”

Wanda traces the shapes with her fingertips, lifts the earrings from the box even as she calls scarlet to pull her current earrings out. Once they’re in her ears, her old earrings in the box, she hugs her brother. 

“Thank you,” she whispers.

 

* * *

 

**x.**   
Bucky stands next to her and helps her wash up after everyone’s faded away. Everyone made their excuses to go to bed - Clint having to get back to his family, Scott to his girlfriend, Stark having “things to take care of back at the Tower”, Steve and Natasha making the excuse of a training exercise the next day. Vision left after commenting on the stars and Peter had homework. Sam and Pietro slipped away, hand in hand, having been leaning into each other for half an hour, and Wanda’s having to reinforce her mental shields as she scrubs down the saucepan.

“Nice party,” says Bucky.

Wanda half-smiles. “You think so? I’ve never thrown one before.”

He takes the saucepan from her hands, starts to dry it. “I mean,” he says. “I haven’t partied since the forties.”

Wanda lets out a peal of laughter. “That good, then?”

Bucky sets down the saucepan, reaches for the bowl she’s setting down, metal fingers light over hers for just a moment. 

“It was fun,” he says. “I don’t know how well it compares to every party  _ ever _ but-” he finishes drying the bowl, stacks it on top of the saucepan and shrugs. “It was fun. That’s the important bit. And your brother seemed happy.”

Wanda’s smile is almost coupled with a blush and she hurriedly tries to block off the bleedthrough from her brother. Washing up done, she turns off the tap, hops up onto the counter. “Pass me the bowl?”

Bucky’s hand is gentle on her knee as he passes her bowl and saucepan, three mugs and five glasses, assorted other bits and pieces from the cupboards. Twice his hands catch her when she almost slips off, fingers gentle but firm on her hips. 

“Wanda,” he says, soft and gentle once the last thing is away in it’s drawer, once the cupboards are shut. He’s always like this around her, gentle favours and small kindnesses, an odd understanding from someone who should, by all rights, fear what she’s capable of. But he doesn’t fear her, he bumps her shoulders against hers, he stands between her legs in front of the counter and his hands catch her by the hips when she’s about to fall.

“Mm?”

“It’s your birthday too.”

Earlier, if someone had said that, she’d have had a point to make, how Pietro had always started the celebration for them, how it had always been Pietro to make it special for them. Now, party done, there’s no point to make. Instead, Wanda shrugs. “Yes,” she says simply.

Bucky’s hands are gentle on hers, her fingers interlink with his. With the bleedthrough from Pietro’s mind, the emotions coming through from what he and Sam are up to, her skin seems incredibly sensitive.

“You should get a present too,” Bucky whispers.

She sees the thought in his mind even as he leans forward, and leans forward to match him, their lips pressing together. One of his hands stays linked with hers, the other touches her hips, pulls her closer to the edge of the counter where she can more easily wrap her legs around him.

They kiss, unhurried but for the senses bleeding through from Pietro’s mind. They kiss and kiss more, Bucky’s metal fingers tracing the skin of her hand, his skin on her hip where her shirt is slightly pulled up from her skirt waistline. This is soothing, calm,  _ gentle _ , and with the bleedthrough from Pietro that is not what Wanda wants. 

Not at all.

“No,” she says, a whisper against Bucky’s jawline and he pulls back in a moment. “No,” she says again, and pulls him close, “Just do not be so  _ gentle.” _

His hand raises to her hair, combs through it. He pauses, considers… smiles. “You’re getting bleedthrough,” he says. “From Pietro and Sam.”

“Yes,” Wanda says. 

When his lips touch hers next, they are not gentle. There is something biting to them, something fierce and sharp, and his teeth worry at her lip, nip at her tongue, his hand tightens in her hair. Wanda’s legs pull him closer, her hand knots in his hair, when he pauses his biting she bites him instead until she can feel him, hard in his jeans when he’s groaning, his hips lifting half without thought.

“Wanda,” he whispers, and she catches his lip in her teeth.

“Bucky,” she whispers. 

He pulls back, looks her in the eye. “You’re sure?” he says. “Not going to wish you didn’t in the morning.”

Wanda smiles, cups his neck with her hand. “If we don’t,” she says. “I will regret that.”

The bleedthrough is stronger, warmth and desire, love, affection, lust itching up through her veins, desperate for some outpouring. She lets her shields down more, let’s get bleedthrough from her, because as this goes on, she knows, holding the shields in place will be harder. Bucky’s lips trace along her jaw, his teeth occasionally biting and pressing, sucking kisses onto her neck.

She’s half off the counter now, balanced between stone edge and Bucky’s body, her legs around his waist, his arms around her, the only things preventing her from falling. Bucky turns them, balances her on a stool, runs his fingers over the bare skin revealed as her skirt rides up more. Metal and flesh, the difference tantalising, warm and cold, hard and soft, both careful but firm against her skin. Wanda’s hand tangles in his hair again, pulls him close so she can trail kisses along his jaw, down his neck, to his collarbone, until Bucky pulls his shirt off, giving her free reign over the skin of his chest. Wanda’s hands find Bucky’s waistband just as his thumbs curl over her hips, tracing between her underwear and her skin.

“Please,” he says, half asking, half begging, and she says it back, lips just under his ear, bleedthrough stronger and stronger, feeding into each other, Bucky’s skin warm against hers.

Later, she will think this reckless. In the moment, her hand on Bucky, his fingers tracing over her hipbones, each of them biting and kissing and sucking bruises onto each other’s skin, she really doesn’t care.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


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